


Peace like a river (always going, never getting)

by Glowsquid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, All of them need therapy tbh, Banter, Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jyn Erso Needs A Hug, Light Angst, Merrin Needs A Hug (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order, Pre-Rogue One, Stargazing, Touch-Starved Cal Kestis, Touch-Starved Merrin (Star Wars), Why can't this family never have a funky good time?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 03:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowsquid/pseuds/Glowsquid
Summary: At a well-deserved celebration with Saw's partisans, Jyn meets a kindred spirit, Cal gets an uncomfortable glimpse into his past, and Merrin struggles to find the belonging she craves.Or, three child soldiers find a rare reprieve from surviving, a chance to be the children they should have been.Title inspired by Theseus by The Oh Hellos
Relationships: Cal Kestis & Merrin, Cal Kestis/Merrin, Jyn Erso & Cal Kestis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	Peace like a river (always going, never getting)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaraLan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraLan/gifts).



> This fic grabbed me by the scruff of the neck like an impatient mama cat and dragged me off in the opposite direction of where I thought this was going to do. I guess I don't create the stories, I just tell them. 
> 
> Shout-out to MaraLan for patiently listening and providing feedback as I flailed about this fic in your dms. You're a real one. Also to Onion, patron saint of authors in the sq discord, my rockstar beta. 
> 
> Fyi, the time this fic is set in is intentionally ambiguous. It doesn't take place that long after J:FO, but Jyn is a little older than she should be, I think. I don't really care. Just pretend everyone is where they should be.

Saw and his rebel band could be uptight and overzealous sometimes, but they sure knew how to throw a party. 

They were in the middle of one of the most isolated forests of Corvus, where they had earlier cleaned out an Imperial munitions plant. There had already been so much devastation wrought to the moon’s forests, but it was a big win nevertheless, and Saw had insisted in a rare magnanimous display that the crew of the Mantis join him and his partisans for some revelries. A massive bonfire had been lit with the flammable remnants of the factory they had scrapped. Saw’s motley crew was in high spirits tonight, exchanging drinks and jokes and puffs from a t’bac bowl.

Cere had brought her hallikset down with her, and was joined by a Weequay on a Sriluurian fiddle. The two had gathered a small audience of rebels enthusiastically shouting requests for this song or another, singing along raucously if obliged. Greez had gotten roped into a game of dice with a trio of drop troopers, and Cal was keeping a careful eye on the game to make sure the pile of credits in the center wasn’t getting too big. BD-1 had strayed from his perch on Cal’s shoulder to explore, making his rounds around the fire to meet everyone and scan everything in sight. He catches a glimpse of Merrin across the fire, nodding along to what one of the rebels was telling her about and tapping her foot along with the music. 

Cal's managed to get himself pleasantly tipsy. The alcohol he's consumed so far has him feeling warm and loose and lighter than he's felt in a long time. There's no shortage of friendly conversation to be found either, and his status as the resident Jedi is making him fairly popular among Saw’s band. Cal doesn’t mind the attention, personally. So far no one has asked invasive questions like “So what was the clones' betrayal like for you, Cal?” or “You were only a padawan during the purge, right Cal?” or “How does it feel to be the last survivor of your order, Cal?” 

The mood is celebratory and relaxed, and Cal is happy to forget about all the atrocities in the galaxy for a while with the rest of them. 

He's distracted momentarily when he discovers that BD-1 had made a new friend. A human girl around eight years old, cheeks still round from baby fat and an oversized flak helmet on her head, fawning over the small droid. Cal studies her closer. He didn’t see her during the fighting (and thank the Force for that, at least this child didn’t have to grow up a soldier like he and his friends did), but she's the only child he's seen so far among Saw’s party. Struck by curiosity, he makes his way around the circle of flames and sits down on the damp grass next to her. 

“Hey.”

She doesn't look up from where she's fiddling with the antenna on top of BD-1’s head. “Hi.”

“What’s your name?”

This time, she does look at him. 

“You’re one of the ones from the Mantis, right?”

Her evasion of the question he asked doesn’t escape him, but he doesn’t press the issue. He wasn’t exactly an open book in his youth either.

“Yup. I’m Cal, and this here is BD-1.”

She frowns at him. “I know. I can speak binary,” she says, as if offended by the insinuation that she couldn’t.

Cal doesn’t let it faze him. “That’s good, not many people can.”

“I’m Jyn.”

Cal smiles to himself. He holds out his hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Jyn.”

She accepts the handshake, squeezing his hand in a fierce grip with her little fingers. 

“Ouch, you got a strong grip there,” he says, exaggeratedly shaking the pain out of his right hand.

Jyn nods. “Saw says that a firm handshake establishes dominance quickly.”

“Well, it's working,” he says with a smile. “Is Saw your dad?”

Jyn frowns bitterly, and Cal instantly regrets asking. “Not really, she says, shaking her head. “He’s just raising me.”

Now there was a loaded response. Cal wonders what happened to her parents. Were they dead? Or was there another reason why she was in the middle of the woods with a band of militants and Saw Gerrera. Was it possible that she-

Cal shivers, and reaches out into the Force, only to withdraw with dismay a moment later. The Force flowed around her like it did every other being, but she lacked that spark of connection, that synchronization to the energy of life that other Force-sensitives had. He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face and steers the conversation away from either of their pasts, waving his hand to indicate the group gathered in the forest clearing. “Are all of these people your friends?”

She shrugs. “Sort of. I know most of them, but they don’t hang around much because they’re usually off on missions and stuff for Saw.”

“Does it ever get lonely?”

“No, I don’t mind being by myself. It does get boring though. Hey, can I have some of that?”

“What, this?” He holds up his cup, still half-full of Sunberry wine. 

“Yeah.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Um, I’m not sure that’s a great idea, it wouldn’t be very responsible of me. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to drink when you’re older.” Internally, he cringes at his own words. Since when did he begin to sound like his master? 

“That’s what all the others say. I thought you would be cool,” she says with a huff of disappointment. 

Cal is momentarily tempted to give in, if only to salvage his status of “cool” in the eyes of this girl. But he really doesn’t want to get in trouble with their newfound allies by getting their surrogate daughter drunk on their very first meeting. 

“Hey, I’m definitely cool. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m eight, and I think if I’m old enough to start training for field missions, I’m old enough to have something to drink that’s interesting. But so far, I'm the only one who thinks that.”

Training for field missions. Training for- Saw was training her for the field already?

Eight. She’s eight years old. He tries to picture this girl - with her tiny button nose and flyaway hairs escaping from braided pigtails - wearing her flak helmet and clutching a blaster, taking shelter in a foxhole as Imperial fire rains down. They at least had let him wait until he was 12 before he shipped out with Master Tapal and the clones in the 13th, this girl was practically still a baby. 

Instinctively, he looks to Merrin, the only other person he knows who would understand. But Merrin isn’t where he saw her last. His eyes scan the clearing, and catch sight of her at the edge of the forest, at the start of the path that leads to the cliff edge nearby that overlooks the valley. 

He wonders why she’s leaving, and if she wanted him to follow. 

“Hey, did you hear what I said?”

Jyn is looking at him expectantly. Kriff. 

“Uh, sorry, Jyn. Zoned out for a minute there. What was that?”

“I asked you if you know how to shoot a blaster, or if you only use your lightsaber and stuff.” 

“Oh. Uh, I prefer the lightsaber I guess."

"Can I hold it?”

Cal blinks. Hold his lightsaber? He glances around the fire. He doesn’t have a problem with it, personally, but for the second time that evening, he is taken aback by his newfound position as an adult responsible for the wellbeing of a child. He unclips it from his belt.

“Yes. But,” he says, and doesn’t continue speaking until she’s torn her excited gaze away from his saber hilt to meet his eyes. “Let’s not ignite it here, okay? So be careful with the button. Got it?”

She nods, and he passes it to her. 

She takes it reverently, holding it carefully in both hands and turning it over, examining it from all angles. Her little fingers barely wrap all the way around the circumference of the hilt. Cal is pleased to see she gingerly arranges her fingers so as not to accidentally trigger the ignition. BD-1 stands on her thigh, examining it with her even though he’s seen it hundreds of times already. 

“It’s heavier than I thought,” she remarks. “Is it fun?”

“Is what fun?”

She shrugs. “You know. Using it, and fighting with it.”

Cal thinks for a moment. He doesn’t think of fighting as something fun. Usually, when he has to use it’s saber, it’s because somebody is trying to kill him and he will have to kill them in return. But his mind is drawn back to building his first saber as a youngling, and the thrill of feeling each component of the hilt assembling into something uniquely his. Of practicing kata or sparring in the temple, saber moving with power and fluidity as an extension of his own self. Of igniting his second saber for the first time on Illum, feeling the heat of the blade on his face and the crystal within calling out to him as if reuniting with an old friend. 

And he finds himself saying, “Yeah. It’s pretty fun.” 

She seems to consider something for a moment, and hands it back. “I know that I’m not a Jedi or anything, but do you think I would be good at fighting with one if I was?” 

He busies himself with affixing his lightsaber back to his belt and taking a swallow from his rapidly-cooling wine as he considers how best to answer her bid for validation.

“How about the next time we come to work for Saw, you and I find out together?”

She looks at him accusingly. “But I don’t have a lightsaber, how would I do that?”

He shoots a look at BD-1, who seems to nod encouragingly. 

“Before any Jedi builds their own lightsaber, we train with sticks and staves. We practice with ordinary weapons before we ever take up a lightsaber. I could teach you, if you wanted. You don’t need to be a Jedi to hit somebody with a stick."

She laughs at this, evidently not expecting so elegant a weapon to be compared to a common stick. “What if I wandered around with a stick tied to one side of my belt, and bonked people on the head like it was a tube of flimsi towels?” she says, shaking her fist as she raps Cal’s own skull with an imaginary cardboard tube. 

Cal smiles. “Stormtrooper helmets aren’t very good quality, but they’re a bit tougher than your average flimsi-towel tube. We’ll have to find you something sturdier to practice with.”

Jyn stares at him, looking a bit shocked. “Were you serious about teaching me?”

BD-1 trills with affirmation, hopping from one little foot to the other in excitement. 

“Of course. Not tonight, but we’ll see each other again. Someday, I’ll show you how to fight with one of these. 

Her eyes are shining with excitement, and she holds out a tiny pinky. “Promise?” 

He locks his little finger with hers, and says “I promise. You should be able to defend yourself as much as possible, when you’re out there.”

What he means is, _I’m not going to let you die like the others, not if I can help it._

But he doesn’t say that, because Jyn is still young and dreams of glory, and the cruelty of the galaxy will find her soon enough without any of his help. She’s like him and Merrin now. A survivor. 

Speaking of Merrin…

She’s still not back, and Cal eyes the entrance to the first path with apprehension. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, he knows that. And if she had run into trouble, she would be able to make enough of a fuss to be noticeable from here. 

Still. 

He takes a final swig from his cup and leaves it behind him on the grass as he stands, and tries not to groan at the stiffness in his knees. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk, make sure Merrin’s okay,” He says. “You two…” he points from Jyn to BD-1 in turn “Stay out of trouble, alright?” 

“Okay,” Jyn says casually, resuming her fiddling with BD-1’s antennae as BD-1 chirps contentedly. “Don’t get lost.”

Cal isn’t worried about getting lost. He’d traveled the footpath from the clearing to the cliff ledge multiple times in the daylight. But this time, as the shadows of the trees close around him, cutting him off from the warmth of the fire and his gathered friends, his mind began to wander back to his conversation with Jyn. 

Was Saw really going to send this child out to fight? At least with him, they hadn’t had a choice, they hadn’t just...

No, they had. The Jedi order made a choice to send him out onto the front lines as a soldier at the age of 12. They did the same to Caleb and Zett and Skywalker’s padawan, Ahsoka, who at the age of 14 had seemed so mature to Cal when he first met her. They had all grown up under blasterfire and canonfire and the shrill scream of bombers, and now Jyn was going to have to do the same. 

He makes the decision then to ask the rest of the crew to take on as many jobs for Saw as they can. He knows he isn’t invincible. He can’t save the entire galaxy by himself, but if he can be here for Jyn, maybe….

Maybe he could be for her what Prauf was for him. A guide, an anchor, someone who would have her back when the going gets tough, as it inevitably does. 

It takes 7 standard minutes and two stumbles over protruding roots before the trees thin out and Cal finds himself at the clearing on top of the cliff. It’s a stunning view. Corvus’ twin moons cast a wan glow over the valley, and the dark sea of trees below them stretches out all the way to the horizon, leaving the star-studded sky open and clear and resplendent. He isn’t alone, and nearly starts out of his poncho before he remembers why he came out this way and recognizes Merrin sitting on the edge, kicking her dangling feet back and forth. She seems to notice him at the same time he notices her. 

“Did nobody ever warn you about sneaking up on a Nightsister?”

Cal smiles in the way he can’t help but smile whenever she’s near. “They probably did, and I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“Foolish of you,” she says, patting the spot on the grass next to her. “What are you doing out here?”

Cal accepts the invitation, and eases himself down beside her, dangling his legs over the edge as she did. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, and to keep you company if you didn’t want to be alone.”

She smiles a little, making the dimples in her cheeks stand out. “Thoughtful of you. Were you enjoying yourself?”

“I was. Saw knows how to throw a pretty good shindig.”

“I will have to take your word for it. I haven’t been to many shindigs, as you call them.”

“Yeah, I guess Dathomir wasn’t really known for it’s party scene.”

“As a matter of fact,” she says dryly, “It wasn’t. 

“Did you meet Jyn?”

“Was she the little one you were talking to?”

Cal sighs deeply. “Yeah, she was.”

Merrin draws the silence out, leaving room in the air between them for Cal to say what he was thinking. He wasn’t even sure how to express it, but felt compelled to try. Besides, if anyone knew how he was feeling, Merrin would. 

“She’s only eight. Saw’s training her for the field.”

Merrin makes a neutral humming noise in the back of her throat. “It will be good for her to learn early. Better start now, so she will be stronger when she’s grown.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know. She’s really young, and I…. I never really thought about the kind of childhood we had, and how it really wasn’t a childhood at all, until now. And it’s hard to wrap my head around.”

“It is difficult to see it happen to someone else with your own eyes, now that you’re grown.” Merrin’s voice is unusually gentle, but she wastes no time getting to the heart of the issue as usual. 

“Yeah, exactly. I wish she could grow up in a more peaceful galaxy, and not have to fight.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, suddenly overwhelmed by a bitter surge of emotion. “And she’s not just out there for her own life. These rebels are fighting because so many can’t fight for themselves. She’s going to be responsible for a galaxy full of people older than her, adults who should be protecting her, not the other way around! And it’s not… it’s not fair.”

The sentiment sounds childish to his own ears - he’s long stopped believing that the universe was fair - but his chest aches with the truth of it. What he wouldn’t give to live in a world where he and Merrin could have had their childhoods free of fighting and and death and raw survival, where they could simply be two teenagers: Drinking and talking and watching the stars. Where Jyn could simply be a child. With her parents. Going to school, making friends her own age, catching bugs and playing with dolls and collecting model starfighters. 

As if she could sense his thoughts, Merrin says “There’s no use dwelling on what could have been, Cal. This is the world we’ve been given. We’re here, so we’ll keep her as safe as we can for as long as we can, and when we can’t anymore, well. You and I survived, didn’t we?” 

He glances at her to find she’s already holding his gaze.

“Yeah, I guess we did.” 

“Then why can’t Jyn?”

 _Trust only in the Force_. 

He takes a deep breath in and exhales, and with it releases his fear and anxiety and regret into the Force, like snow melting off a mountainside. 

Sometimes, he thinks Merrin would have made a better Jedi than he ever did. 

“You’re right, as always,” he says, and a comfortable silence ensues between them for the next few moments as they watch the stars together.

“Hey,” Cal says, tilting his head towards the southwest. “That constellation kind of looks like Greez.”

She follows his gaze, searching the horizon with bright eyes. “Where?”

He extends his arm and points up at the vaguely Latero-shaped cluster of stars. “There. See?”

“Huh. I think it sort of looks like a dick.” 

“Do you mean it actually looks like a penis, or that Greez is just a dick?”

Merrin considers for a moment. “Yes to both.” 

Cal snorts. 

They carry on that way, and make a game of trying to find the shapes of their friends in the stars. Until something occurs to Cal. 

“Hey, why did you leave anyway?” He asks. 

“Well, it was… you know.” Merrin sighs, and Cal copies her earlier silence, the open air of the night waiting for her words.

“On Dathomir, and even with you and the crew of the Mantis, I always knew that I belonged, and it’s easy to know what to do. I’ve… I’ve never been around so many people before who didn’t know me.”

Cal thinks he knows what she means, but he lets her go on. 

“Cere has her music, and Greez loses our money at games, most beings find you handsome and pleasant and easy to talk to, and of course everyone loves your little droid. But I don’t know what the rules are, yet. To being with so many people who aren’t like me.”

Cal feels his face flush hot at her words. Merrin thought he was handsome? But he didn’t let himself dwell on the compliment. 

“You know you’re one of us though, right?”

Merrin had an impressive sabacc face by anyone’s standards, but Cal had known her long enough by now to learn her tells. Right now, for instance, the slightest tension in her brown told him that she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Hey, I mean it. Socializing takes practice, it definitely did for me when I first ended up on Bracca. The first year was awkward and confusing, but we really care about you. I know it won’t be the same as your sisters on Dathomir, but you have a place here, for as long as you want it.” 

Merrin nods, slow and contemplative. “I do, and I care about you too, but it doesn’t feel the same as I thought it would all the time. So many things are unfamiliar, it gets overwhelming. Cere’s music was nice but I don’t know any of the songs that the others do. The music on Dathomir wasn’t quite so… exuberant, but at least I knew all the words.”

Cal leans back on his arms to better look her in the eye. 

“Well, that problem shouldn’t be a hard one to fix.”

Merrin mirrors his movements to regard him in return. “What do you mean?

“I’ll send you some music before the next shindig, whenever it is.”

Merrin raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You want me to listen to that caterwauling you call music?”

“First of all,” he says, holding up a reproachful finger. “It’s not caterwauling. And I’ll make you a playlist, even. Cal Kestis’ Guide to Exploring the Galaxy Through Music. And next time Saw has a party you’re going to sing and get drunk and be ridiculous with the rest of us. We can pretend we’re regular, irresponsible teenagers having fun for once.”

She turns away again to study the terrain below them. “I would do no such thing. I am the epitome of grace and beauty, and will not bring disgrace upon the Nightsisters of Dathomir by fraternizing with the likes of you in such a way.” Her tone is imperious and unyielding, but he notices the faintest upturn in the corners of her mouth and knows she's only teasing. 

“That’s a lie! You’re just as weird as the rest of us, admit it.” 

“I should sue you on grounds of defamation of character.” 

“How? You don’t know any lawyers and we’re both enemies of the state.”

“Semantics.” She lies down onto her back, face tilted to the night sky. The light of Corvus’ moon casts a glow on her face that makes her grey complexion look like a moon itself, ethereal and resplendent. “Very well. I will let you educate me about ‘music,’” she says, making quotes in the air with her fingers, “on one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“Next time we’re at one of these, what did you call them? Shindigs? You are going to dance with me.”

Cal hesitates. “Well… I’m really not a very good dancer, Merrin.”

“I know that. But I have hopes of improving you. You will find I am a marvelous teacher. My sisters and I would dance when we had… nights like this.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but Cal is no stranger to longing for a past that was cruelly ripped away. As shy as he felt about dancing in public, he wasn’t going to let her miss a chance to give her back something she loved about her home.

“Okay then. You can teach me to dance.”

Merrin grins, looking delighted. 

Yeah. He would waltz arm-in-arm with the Ninth Sister if only to see Merrin smile like that again.  
He copies her in lying down on his back, breathing deeply of the forest air. 

Moments where it’s just the two of them together, without the rest of the crew or even BD-1 around are few and far between and tragically short at that, so Cal decides to relish every minute of it as it is. The stillness, the beauty of the night sky on Corvus, lying next to her so close their shoulders are a hair’s breadth from touching, and nowhere they need to be for the next standard rotation. 

Yeah, Cal could get used to this. He sneaks another glance at Merrin. 

Judging by the way her eyes are closed and her breathing has deepened, Merrin is even more relaxed than he is. 

He smiles, glad that she’s finally resting properly. Sleep is hard to come by in their line of work, and Merrin works harder than the rest of them, since her magick is so vital to sneaking the Mantis past Imperial blockades. 

The thought of work and blockades and their myriad responsibilities must be what jinxes him, because just at that moment, his comm chirps and Merrin jerks awake.

“Sorry, Merrin,” he says sheepishly. He wishes whoever was trying to get in touch with them could have at least given her a few more minutes to sleep. 

“It’s fine,” she replies. “See who it is, it might be important.”

Regretfully, he answers the comm. “Cal here.”

“You kids better have been kidnapped or something,” blares Greez’s voice from Cal’s wrist. “Because if I find out you two have been canoodling in those woods, I swear I’ll-”

“Kriff, Greez! No one’s canoodling!” He silently damns his own face for blushing, and hopes Merrin doesn’t notice. “We were just on a walk.”

“Oh, that’s what they’re calling it these days? And where did you hear that _language_?”

“The last time? From you,” Cal deadpans. 

"Yeah okay, smartass. Merrin’s with you?”

“She is,” Merrin says.

“Swell. Look, fire’s getting low, Saw’s getting impatient, Cere broke a string, and that little droid of yours is about to bust a servo with how much he’s worrying about you. So you might want to get back here. We’ll pack up the Mantis, make the jump to Taanab and sleep on the way. Got it?”

Cal sighs, and shares a knowing look with Merrin. So much for peace and quiet. 

But such was the life of survivors like them.

“We hear you, Greez. We’ll be back shortly.”

“And no detours! Don’t need you two giving each other any diseases or-”

“Yup, we got it, thanks,” he says quickly, before Greez can add any more input on what they should or shouldn’t do on their way back. “Cal out.”

He shuts off his comlink, closes his eyes, and sighs for what feels like the millionth time that evening. When he opens his eyes, Merrin is pointing towards the southwest. 

“Like I said. Dick.”

He laughs, embarrassment forgotten in a moment. 

“You were right about that,” he says, then stands up and offers her a hand for assistance. 

The scathing look she gives him would have cowed a lesser man, but Cal stands his ground, silently daring her to accept his chivalry. She does give in, as he knew she would, using him as leverage to pull herself to her feet. 

But what he didn’t know that she would do was draw herself closer still and wrap her arms around his shoulders. 

It takes him by surprise, but he gathers himself quickly. The gaping hole in his chest that made their last (and so far, only) hug a rather painful ordeal is now nothing but a blot of pinkish scar tissue, so he returns her embrace wholeheartedly, settling his arms against her back and waist. Merrin takes a deep, tremulous breath, and he rubs her back tenderly to soothe her. 

She doesn’t show any interest in letting go yet, so he lets himself linger as long as she’s willing to, dreading the moment of pulling away. He can’t remember the last time he had ever felt like this. Physical affection on Bracca and the Mantis was limited to back slaps and shoulder pats and handshakes sealed with the spit of a promise. He remembers falling asleep cuddled next to his fellow crechemates as a very small youngling at the temple, but they had abandoned such childish actions when they left the creche. Now that he considers it, he can’t remember the last time he had been held.

And suddenly he feels untethered and desperate and weak at the knees and he squeezes her as close to him as he can without hurting her. He lets out a harsh breath that turns into a whimper, and muffles the sound in the crook of her neck. Her arms around his shoulders tighten in response. He imagines himself physically soaking in the hug, letting her warmth and her weight in his arms seep through his skin and shore up his defenses that have been stretched too thin for far too long. 

A hundred years could have gone by, and Cal would have been content for both of them to stay right where they were for the entirety of it. But Merrin loosens her grip on him so he reluctantly does the same. It’s only then he realizes that he had managed to lift her completely off her feet, and she drops the few inches back to the ground awkwardly, landing on his toes.

“Ow, kriff, I’m sorry,” He fumbles. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize,” she chuckles, tugging the hem of her tunic back into place. “It was nice. You’re a good friend, Cal. You give good hugs.”

Affection wells in his chest and swells his heart so full he’s afraid it will burst. His feelings for her lately have been… complex. And confusing. And he doesn’t really know what to do with them, except to stay by her side for as long as he can, wherever they go. 

“I’m- I’m so glad I met you,” is all he knows to say. And as an addendum, “You give good hugs too.” 

The words sounded lame as soon as he said them, but Merrin beamed as if he had recited the sonnets of Adranax. 

Until her face nearly splits down the middle in a massive yawn she belatedly tries to cover with the back of her hand. He puts an arm around her shoulders then steers them both towards the path that will take them back to the others. 

“Come on,” he says. “Long day tomorrow.”

“It always is, isn’t it.”

“That’s true.” He takes one last look behind them at the moon-soaked landscape, committing it to memory as best as he can.

This is a night he never wants to forget. 

**Author's Note:**

> All I wanted was a fic where Merrin and Cal could simply have a funky good time, but then Jyn showed up, and angst started happening, and it completely ran away from me. 
> 
> The playlist Cal makes for Merrin is gonna be half The HU and Nine Treasures, and the other half Space Sweet Caroline and shit. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or, if you're particularly amazing, a comment. Or check out my [ Merrical playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3nb89MgyrOoVAz0ioH6O27?si=zrXvCsUuRHiUsi1LJSrtOw)


End file.
